Falling for the Gargoyle

  Falling for the Gargoyle

  Moonlight & Magic 2

  Mina Carter

  NEW YORK TIMES & USA TODAY bestselling author

  Copyright © 2012 by Mina Carter

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Also by Mina Carter

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Saturday night had always been Neri and Jason's “date night.” Some things didn't change. Their relationship was on the rocks, so far on the rocks it could only be described as a shipwreck. For Neri, at least, it had been over a while. She'd assumed they had a normal relationship, the sort where you could say, “I've had enough. I'm outta here.” Except theirs wasn't a normal relationship. Here they were, out on the town on a Saturday night like normal, apart from one important distinction.

  Neri didn't expect to make it to morning.

  As though he could read her mind, Jason caught her eye from across the table and smiled. She suppressed a shudder and looked away. She'd tried to leave earlier but he'd stopped her. She looked up and to her right circumspectly. Neil, Jason's bulldog bodyguard, grinned down at her. This time she did shudder. She'd never liked the way Neil looked at her, as though he was undressing her in his head.

  Neri reached for her drink with nerveless fingers, wrapping them about the glass and lifting it to her lips. Looking around the club she took a sip and tried to act as though nothing was wrong. That was the key. Jason was a stickler for appearances. If she played the game well enough she might be able to string things along, perhaps delay them long enough to find a way out.

  There had to be a way out. Otherwise she'd end her life in a back alley somewhere with her body left in a Dumpster. The expression on her face didn't change as another thought occurred to her.

  Neil.

  She slid a glance at Jason. He wouldn't. Would he? Neil had some…unhealthy appetites. He would. Without a doubt he would give her to Neil. The numbness she'd been feeling since Jason had thrown her, half naked, into the bedroom and told her to get dressed for the evening burned away under her fear. She had to get out of here. Now.

  Replacing the glass on the table she shifted along the bench seat.

  "Excuse me… Oh, for fuck's sake, do you have to ask him for permission to take a piss as well?” she snapped when Neil looked at Jason to check.

  "Let her go.” Jason's voice was just audible over the heavy music of the club. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Neri grabbed her purse and slid past Neil before he could change his mind.

  She fled through the club on swift feet. Moonlight & Magic was the biggest of the “paranormal” clubs in town. Neri didn't know much about paranormals. Sure, she knew they'd come out of the “closet” a couple of years ago, but she'd never really thought much about it. So the monster under the bed was real? Big deal. Neri had always known monsters were real, but in her world they went by the term Homo sapiens.

  Still, perhaps she'd get lucky and Jason would piss off something big and mean that would tear his head off. Yeah, like she'd get that lucky.

  Skirting the edge of the packed dance floor she made her way to the ladies’ room. There had to be an exit out back somewhere, a staff entrance or something. She just needed a five minute head start. Just five lousy minutes and she'd disappear so completely even her own mother wouldn't be able to find her.

  Her lips quirked as she paused to make way for a busboy. Of course, that would depend on her knowing who her mother was. Not information a brat left on the hospital steps twenty-four years ago tended to have access to.

  Neri Jacobs. Unwanted by her own mother, shunted from foster home to foster home, and now the soon-to-be-deceased girlfriend of a sleaze like Jason Carrick, small-time wannabe crime lord. Just her fucking luck.

  Knuckles, head bouncer, part-time barman and full-time resident badass at Moonlight & Magic, watched the group on the other side of the club out of the corner of his eye. Actually, standing at the bar and wiping glasses to keep his scarred hands busy, he watched everyone in the club, but he kept a special eye on the Carrick party.

  Knuckles might have looked like a stereotypical thug, but he was far from it. For a start, he was the club owners’ “right hand man"—a testament to his intelligence and diligence in his job. With Knuckles on duty, trouble was minimal. To all intents and purposes, his job was the reason he occupied the small apartment above the club, behind the offices. But the reality ran far deeper.

  Knuckles was a gargoyle; admittedly one in human form most of the time but a gargoyle nonetheless. The club was his territory and nothing guarded a building better than a gargoyle. It was what they did, what they were.

  And right at this moment Knuckles’ “spider sense” was doing the quick-step about Carrick's party. He knew who they all were, of course. Daelas and Jaren, the club's owners, didn't pay him the big bucks to stand around looking pretty, which was fairly impossible when you were over six and a half feet with a face that looked like it had been carved out of rock. In all fairness, Knuckles’ face had been carved out of rock, but that was beside the point. The point was Knuckles made a habit of checking out all the regulars to the club to make sure there were no…undesirables amongst them.

  Jason Carrick might not be an undesirable—being a vampire, a troll or an ogre put a person on the club's shit list automatically—but he was a nasty piece of work all the same. A human snake who profited on the misery of others, he'd earned a place on Knuckles’ own personal shit list—right up there at the top, just under stonemason. The glass cracked under his massive hands as his lip curled.

  "Yo, man, you got some serious leakage there.” The voice brought Knuckles back to the present and he glanced down. Sure enough, blood dripped from his closed fist onto the floor.

  "Great, just bloody great. Jaaaac,” he called out, attracting the attention of the willowy blonde the other end of the bar. “Grab the mop, would you? Need to clean up.” He lifted his bloodstained hand in explanation.

  "Sure thing, love. Want me to tell Jaren you're off the floor?” Jac replied in between ringing up a drinks order and pulling a pint. Knuckles had never figured out how she did so many things at once. One of the multitude of mysteries women held for him.

  "Nah, won't be long,” he said over his shoulder, and he headed for the toilets.

  There was no way out. No back door and the windows in the ladies’ room were jammed shut. What sort of bloody place was this? Didn't they know it was standard procedure to have a back door for desperate girlfriends needing to escape their asshole boyfriends?

  Neri slammed her hand against the window frame in an effort to loosen it and succeeded in jarring the bones of her wrist.

  "Shit, shit, shit, shit!” she cursed as she folded it under her arm. Small even for a woman, she weighed about the same as a wet kitten, so she just wasn't up to rigorous activities like trying to break out of a nightclub.

  Climbing off the toilet, she considered her options. A snort escaped her. What options? She didn't have any bloody options—that was the problem. Her nerves were so shot that the door crashing against the partition as she barged out of the cubicle made her jump. She didn't have long. Any minute now Jason would send Neil in to find her, and she wouldn't get another shot at escape. It was now or never.


  She barreled into the corridor with the force of a cannonball, intent on finding a back door or some other way out of here. Right at that moment even throwing something heavy through a window and cutting herself to ribbons on the glass was looking favorable. What was the worst that could happen to her if she did that? Some vamp would find her, make her immortal and she could go slap Jason around for a change. A grin split her lips. Yeah, she liked that idea.

  All those pleasant thoughts of retribution came to an abrupt end as she turned the corner and ran into a brick wall…a warm, breathing brick wall.

  Whatever Knuckles expected as he stepped out of the staff toilets, it wasn't to be trampled by a tiny woman on a stampede. She hit the middle of his chest, rebounded with a small ooof and started to lose her balance. Automatically his arms wrapped around her to stop her falling over. At the worst, she'd land on her backside, the rather pretty and lush backside filling his palm, but still a gargoyle did what a gargoyle had to do—namely protect humanity, even from a bruised ass.

  "Hey, little lady, might wanna watch where you're going.” Knuckles’ lips curved in an approximation of a smile as he turned the woman the right way up. It never failed to amaze him quite how delicate humans were, especially female humans. Then she flicked her hair back from her face, and he lost the power of thought.

  Large eyes the color of slate looked up at him, shadowed with fear. The fear hit him in the gut and his protective instincts rushed to the fore. The next instant the air prickled with power—power which crawled over his body, gathering under his skin and readying him for the change. Readying his body to drop the human mask and reveal his natural form. He gritted his teeth and held onto control like a bad-tempered terrier on a postman's pant leg.

  "Hey there, you okay?” Concern crept into his gruff voice as she clutched at his arms, her little hands trying to get purchase on the heavy muscles under his work jacket. He wondered what they'd feel like against his skin, all soft and warm and… His body hardened, his cock leaping to attention in his pants.

  What the hell?

  Carefully he set her on her feet, hoping to all that was holy she hadn't felt his reaction to her nearness. What was that all about? He'd never had such a reaction to a human woman before, hell, to any woman, even the ones who had tried it on, eager to find out if what they said about his kind was true.

  "Between a rock and a hard place…you don't know the half of it, sweet stuff."

  Mentally Knuckles shook his head, the glib lines his brother Mac had used to pull the women in the past filling his memory. Family for gargoyles was an odd thing. Mac was his brother because they'd both been created to guard the same church. Where Knuckles had been a spire gargoyle, removed from the churchgoers, Mac had been a doorway grotesque. He had the gift of gab. He'd had centuries to listen to humans before they'd been freed, the church they'd guarded no longer holy ground. It was an apartment block now, for up and coming singletons.

  "She's fine, aren't you, Neri?"

  Another voice, an unwelcome voice, broke into their little reverie. The small woman next to Knuckles flinched, and he watched hope die in her eyes.

  "Yes, I'm fine,” the now-named Neri murmured and smiled at Knuckles before she walked to Carrick's side. The small expression turned his stone heart over in his chest. It was a smile of hopelessness and resignation, not of joy. Another question replaced the one about his reaction to her; what the hell was going on here?

  "He hurt you?” Carrick flicked an accusing glance over Knuckles’ massive frame. Knuckles bit back the snarl that rose to his lips and forced his normal stoic expression to remain in place. The fucking little weasel, like he would ever hurt an innocent, especially one as delicate and perfect as this one. But it was the sort of thing many humans thought him capable of based on the way he looked.

  "No, not at all.” She shook her head, flicking him another small smile over her shoulder. It was just a smile, more than he usually got from women, but why did he feel like she was saying goodbye as Carrick hustled her through the door?

  Knuckles followed the two back into the club at a slower pace and resumed his normal post at the top bar. He tried to forget about his unusual reaction to the little female tucked firmly into the booth next to Carrick. She wasn't his type. Hell, Knuckles didn't have a type. The nearest he got was looking at stone angels on crypts or something. Gargoyle porn… The big man shook his head as Mac's voice came back to him again.

  He missed his brother. Mac could be an irritating little shit but he was family. The place seemed empty without him, and to be honest, he could do with the backup at times. Particularly with the new vampire nest which had set up on the other side of town. They seemed to have gotten the message that vampires were unwelcome at Moonlight & Magic, but there was always one who got too involved in the hunt and found itself in places it didn't want to be, like in a back alley having a chat with Knuckles and his boys. Between a rock and a hard place. Vampire fangs were useless against gargoyle skin in any form, so the bites didn't bother Knuckles. They just pissed him off.

  He sighed and leaned on the corner of the bar. From here he could see across the entire club, which was handy for noticing hotspots and marshalling the troops to stop them before they became serious trouble. In other words, before the human clubbers noticed anything out of the ordinary. Moonlight & Magic prided itself on its unique status, on being a place where humans could “dip a toe” into the scary world of the Night Races, but not actually be in any serious danger.

  Keeping half an eye on the group around Carrick, who was now loudly ordering the best champagne, the gargoyle swept a practiced eye across the club. They had at least two dealers they knew of in here tonight. Knuckles rubbed his nose with a large hand, just thankful they were human and dealing human shit. They'd had a Fae in last month peddling Faery dust. Knuckles had waded in and the shit had hit the fan big time. The rest of the staff were still making fun of Knuckles for the bright pink beak he'd sported until sunrise.

  Movement caught his eye. One of the dealers, a short thin guy who was living proof humanity was descended from rodents, sidled off to the toilets. Knuckles waited, not wanting to send his guys in like the household cavalry if the guy was just taking a piss. Within a minute another youth had detached himself from his crowd and headed in after him. The big gargoyle nodded sagely, he'd had a feeling they were together.

  Knuckles caught the eye of Tiny, one of the bouncers named for being the opposite and nearly as big as Knuckles himself. A quick jerk of his head had the other bouncer heading in after the furtive pair. Of course, it might all be very innocent and they might be trying to catch some “alone time,” but Knuckles didn't care if there was the slightest chance they could stop a deal going down. One day, dealers of all races would learn not to piss about with his rules.

  "Heya, Ugly, what's up? You got a face like a bulldog chewin’ a wasp, and that's insulting bulldogs,” a voice announced beside him.

  Knuckles didn't flinch and turned slightly to nod at the tall slender man who appeared next to him. Jaren, one of the incubi who owned the place, was always light on his feet and often managed to sneak up on him. Knuckles was surprised to see him, considering the two had discovered their mate, Sage, a few weeks ago. They were still in the “seriously loved up” stage with no sign of them leaving it anytime soon.

  He ignored the insult. Jaren always teased people, and it was considered bad form to rip your employer's arms and legs off. Not that the insults bothered him. He knew how he looked, and Jaren's words were affectionate, if that was the right word. Knuckles wouldn't have taken the same crap off of a stranger, that was for sure.

  "Coupla dealers. Tiny's gone to have a chat,” he rumbled in explanation. “Carrick's in again. Something odd going down. Don't like it."

  The incubus’ silver-blue eyes cut to the table Knuckles indicated and narrowed. None of the staff liked Carrick. Some of the girls had even gone so far as to refuse to serve him and his group—the men anywa
y. The woman they all felt sorry for. Carrick was a bastard and never passed up an opportunity for a piece of skirt, even with his girlfriend sitting next to him. If things got too intense, he just had his thugs take her home.

  "No, me either. Jac… I'll take it over.” Jaren easily lifted the tray from the barmaid's hands as she went to slide past them and headed over to the Carrick table in her place. The siren shrugged, patrons already clamoring for attention, and returned to her place behind the bar.

  Knuckles watched as Jaren's tall figure wove through the packed floor, and not for the first time, admired the easy way he moved, like a dancer, always in motion, always graceful, never the clumsy lumbering oaf Knuckles was. Jealousy spiked in the middle of his chest as Jaren served the champagne, even managing to snag Neri's hand to place a kiss on her knuckles.

  Knuckles gritted his teeth, unprepared for the wash of anger that swept over him at the sight of the charming and handsome incubus touching her. He looked away to get himself under control.

  The last thing the club needed was a gargoyle on a rampage. It would knock the former big bad—vampires—completely off the top spot because there wasn't much that could stand up to over three hundred pounds of granite-hewn monster, even the brickwork.

  You wouldn't like me when I'm mad. His lips quirked. Slap some green paint on him and he could have had a nice little career as a stunt double in Hollywood, if he could work out how to explain the wings.

  Looking away from the group, Knuckles concentrated on the floor and his job. He didn't need to form an obsession with a human female. They were too easy to damage, especially for someone like him.